INGLENEUK, CHIPPEWA BAY, N. Y.
My dear Jack—
So there you are—and I'm d—- glad you are so nicely fixed. It's the least they could do for you and you ought to be able to enjoy it for ten years before they find any spavins on you if you will behave yourself, but I guess you will drift into that Army and Navy Club and round up with a lot of those old alkalied prairie-dogs whom neither Indians nor whiskey could kill and Mr. Gout will take you over his route to Arlington.
I'm on the water wagon and I feel like a young mule. I am never going to get down again to try the walking. If I lose my whip I am going to drive right on and leave it.
We are having a fine summer and I may run over to Washington this winter and throw my eye over you to see how you go. We made a trip down to New Foundland but saw nothing worth while. I guess I am getting to be an old swat—I can't see anything that didn't happen twenty years ago,
Y— FREDERICK R.
At the close of the year just gone, this great soul passed from the earth leaving a blank in our lives that nothing can ever fill. Passed into the great Beyond whose mysteries were always troubling his mind. Suddenly and swiftly the call came—the hand was stilled and the restless spirit took its flight.
CHAPTER XXXIII. DAVID'S ISLAND
At Davids' Island the four happiest years of my army life glided swiftly away.